So yeah. I’m obsessed with the game. I know a ton about it. And I love horror. I know a ton about it. And while I wouldn’t say I “love” anxiety, I do have a complex relationship with it, and I know it well too.

And if you, reader, suffer any degree of anxiety, please know…you are absolutely not alone.

You know that saying, “everybody’s got their shit”? Yeah, well, everybody’s got their shit. Anxiety is a chaotic animal. Sometimes, when tamed, it can almost kinda, maybe, just maybe result in something cool. But mostly it’s a messy guest. For the most part, I’ll only offer empathy, but let me say one thing that’s helped through the years and, who knows, maybe it’ll help you too:

I had a particularly rough run of it recently. A few years back. I kept telling Allison, “I can’t get out from under it.” I remember that phrase. The hum of the anxiety lasted months. I tried everything. Breathing, working out, etc. Then Allison suggested I “time” the episodes. So I did. The first one, the peak of it, lasted about seven minutes. I timed the next one. About seven minutes. Same with the third. After that, it all kinda went away. Once I’d given the episode a numeric value, it had form.

That’s helped.

And Kit’s story in here? About calling 911 on herself and why? Well, while no book of fiction is entirely autobiographical, that scene is nearly verbatim from my life. Yeah, that was a pivot, to say the least. One I’m eternally grateful for.

And speaking of grateful, some thanks are in order regarding the book in your hands:

Thank you to Tricia Narwani for recognizing a novella bursting at the seams, one that needed to become a novel instead.

Thank you to everyone at Del Rey and Penguin Random House for always making me feel I’m part of the team.

Thank you, Ryan Lewis, Wayne Alexander, Kristin Nelson. We would make a good four-on-four squad. I imagine Kristin as our point.

My dad! Who taught me the game. My dad can outshoot your dad any day, any time. He was/is the real deal.

My brothers! Who were and are obsessed with it too.

Allison Laakko, who has perfect Bob Cousy layup form and inspired Kit’s last layup in the book.

David Simmer, for passing me the ball.

And thank you to the coach of that travel team, Barry Bershad, for being way the hell ahead of his time.

Really, thank you to anyone I ever played the game with or watched the game with. And thank you to everyone I’ve ever shared horror with, whether it was watching a movie, buddy reading, a writing challenge, conversations at conventions, everything and all.

And thank you to everyone I’ve ever freaked out with too.

Daphne is a love letter of sorts to the game of basketball and the horror genre, both.

But, while it’s not a “love letter” to anxiety, it is a correspondence.